T’is the season.

As I wonder the isle of a busy Wal-Mart knowing very well my daughter is in loving arms at home with her aunt, I walk slowly admiring all that I can. I stop and smell candles, imagine different decorative pieces in my house, and push my cart down every isle. For the hour at least that I have been roaming the store there should be way more to show in my cart, but there isn’t yet I am happy. The little things right? Like wandering a Wal-Mart alone, hearing myself think and tackling that Christmas list one thing per hour. It’s all the time to ponder my own thoughts about this year’s Christmas, but above all the shopping, to-do lists, gifts, food planning, and time off work in this few hours I have time to think about God and Jesus Christ, the reason I have my family. I smile as kids throw tantrums because they aren’t getting the toy that they want and think to myself, “I’ve been there too momma!” I giggle at the teenage boys and girls with their friends trying to buy the perfect gift for their crush… again, I have been there too. Then I see weird clothes, ugly hair, bad makeup, horrible body odor, I see teenage moms with their kids walking 10 steps behind them, a pregnant woman with a pack of smokes and car keys in her hand, I hear a teenage couple whom are pregnant trying to argue quietly if abortion is the right choice, and you want to know what I did, I judged. I let horrible thoughts and feelings of hate into my heart regarding people I know nothing about. I let myself hate all of them for what my eyes saw and I didn’t even catch myself doing it. I did this without even dampening my mood just passed judgment and kept on to the next isles. 

Every isle of super Wal-Mart I have now walked. In the long lines I stood waiting for my turn. I started to unload my cart on the belt. It all fits at once and I wait for my turn. The man and his 5ish year old son in front of me, a couple bottles of waters, a blanket, a bag of halls, couple hand warmers and gloves, and a chocolate bar that I watched the little boy beg his dad for. 

“$15.82 please.” 
 -Card denied. 

“Can I run it as credit please?” 
-Card denied 

“Let’s try this card please” 
-Card denied 

“I’m sure I have some cash in my pockets” (Pocket change: a few quarters and couple nickels and dimes.) “Son, let’s put back the chocolate bar until next time.” (Man grabs the chocolate, water and one pair of the two gloves and hands them to the teller.) 

“Can I just purchase just these here now please.” 
-Card denied. Card denied. Card denied. 

The people behind me got frustrated and muttered under their breath as they moved their carts to a different line, “they don’t have time for this crap they still have so much shopping to do.” 

If I had been more conscientious of what was going on and not just watching/flipping through a magazine I would never have let it get that far. When it actually hit me what was going on tears filled my eyes. Different tears than the small boys silent tears because he didn’t get his chocolate bar, but tears because I let myself down. I was no better than the people who switched lines, I just didn’t vocalize it. I had walked aimlessly around Wal-Mart passing judgment on people I know nothing about for the last couple hours. I didn’t know this man’s story so why did I feel so strongly about helping him. Here, in front of my face was Gods reminder that we are all equal and created from him, the King of all Kings. 

Before the teller could deny this man and his son, I pulled my card from my pocket and told the teller to add back all of his items, I would cover the cost. You should have seen the sparkle in the kid’s eyes as he took his chocolate bar back. The tears in the father’s eyes burned a hole right through me and I was so embarrassed. The eyes of all those people I watched today, although they weren’t looking at me, I felt them. This man and his son left after much silently spilled gratitude and a quiet thank you. 

To the mother who is smoking while pregnant, I do not understand why you are doing what you are doing. To the mother who chose abortion, to the mother who chose to try and provide, to the mother who abuses her privileges to be a mother when others can’t. I hate that I hate you and judge you. 

I thought and prayed long and hard that night as I couldn’t sleep. I had a knot at the bottom of my heart which held my hate for my brothers and sisters that I didn’t even know. 

I wept as I was humbled by my answer. I can forgive them the same way God forgave ME for shedding the blood of his, of his only begotten son. The thought hit ground to the deepest part of my heart. Jesus hadn’t died FOR me. He died BECAUSE of me. It wasn’t the people that roamed the earth the same time as Christ that lead him to the cross; it was all of MY sins. There is nothing that sets me apart from all of these other mothers and families. NOTHING. There is no level of sin or hierarchy in which God judges us and thankfully that includes me, my sins, and my judgment towards gods other children. 

So I am sorry. I am so sorry. Instead of judging you I should be a smile, an acquaintance, a friend. I am sorry that the world doesn’t look at you like God looks at you and that I fell into this worldly trap. I am sorry society didn’t embrace you when you felt so alone. I am sorry we only saw from you what we wanted to see and didn’t actually see you. God isn’t mad at you and God doesn’t judge you. He loves you. There is nothing in this world that you could do for God not to love you because there was nothing you could do to earn his love. It is free. He loves you, he loves you, he loves you and so do I. 

I urge everyone reading this to remember this Christmas that Christ was in fact born; he lived, loved and died because of each of us. He loves each of us unconditionally with no price tag and nothing to gain but our relationship with him. 365 days a year he loves us. You are forgiven and you are doing a fantastic job no matter what your role. Go to bed at night with peace and love in your hearts and know that it is worth it. It is all really worth it… I am cheering for you, my friend! 

And to the father and son, that was the best most humbling $15.82 I have ever spent. You made me a better person. Thank-you!

With love, Merry Christmas and A blessed New Year.

In His Eyes.

As I lay in our bed last night enjoying the hands of my husband massaging my back I couldn't help but feel a little self conscious, or a lot. I had wanted this massage for my aching muscles yet my mind kept flashing images of my imperfect body; ones I had a hard time pushing aside. It was just a few hours previous those images were created as I stood before my mirror. Those love handles, thunder thighs, loose skin, saggy boobs, and mountains of cottage cheese and stretch marks were all still there as much as I had wished them away. I am self conscious simply looking at myself, so when he whispered in my ear my beauty and his love for me, water flooded my eyes and the hairs on my neck and my cochlea stood on end the way they do when you have goose-bumps. He is 24 years old. I know this man has seen a magazine or two, I know he has walked through Victoria Secret because I have dragged him through myself, and I know he has watched gorgeous woman on TV for I am guilty myself. These images are everywhere, yet he tells me I am beautiful. What is wrong with this guy? Surely he sees everything I see. 

He does. He sees everything I see and more. He is much taller than I so he can see my imperfection from above, which I can’t. He can see my imperfections side to side, top to bottom, bottom to top, this guy has a front row seat to a show I don't understand why any man or woman for that matter would want to go to. But... with his ability to see me from these angles he also sees much more. 

He sees eyes sore they are so full of exhaustion but a haze of love shields their break. He sees marks that remind him who gave him the greatest gift he could ever receive. Marks that trigger emotions he never knew he had while holding my hand through the pain of labor. He sees strips that remind him of the pain and sickness he wished he could carry for me. He sees the girl I was and the woman I have become. He sees the blisters left on my feet from the previous night before attempt to impress him. He sees the hips that he trusts above any to carry his one year old on. He sees the crease where the pony tail was and the shorter hairs where his daughter helped her mommy do her hair. He sees a chest that fed his newborn. The same chest that saved them so many screaming nights. He sees hands that protect his family when he is away at school, hands that fight off every bad guy or monster. He sees those same hands playing peek-a-boo for hours. He sees arms that hold his most precious gift, ones that comfort and ones that are so strong they never give up holding and hugs. He sees bruised knees spent from hovering over the bathtub where so many giggles and splashes were made. This man sees me rawer than I could ever see myself. Although I may think there is something wrong with him for what he sees as beauty, I believe him. I believe every word he tells me. I know without waver he thinks I am the most beautiful woman to walk this earth. 

Every night when I go to bed and he puts his arm around me and tells me of my beauty and his love I will let it sink in deep for all the reassurance I need is tucked under that comforter with me. Every. Single. Night I will listen to that same man and I will let him try to help me believe for myself.

Another Day in Paradise.

It's 6 am. Babies up and by the slaps on my face and the little giggles I can no longer hide under my blankets. It's a game in her little mind and there is no going back to sleep from here. We venture out to the living room together and put on Elmo for the first of 100 times played today. I change her bum and think to myself how did these hand-me-down clothes make it through at least 3 other babies before us and stay stain free? What am I doing wrong? I prepare breakfast.
"Okay Boo, time for breaky" I say and pick her up and place her in her high chair. Breakfast today was pancakes and she didn't seem to like them, either that or feeding the dog was more fun. Add eggs to the list; I make a mental note. I sneak some applesauce in whenever I get a chance in hopes of some nutrition for the youngin'. Clean her up and put her down. I try and butter the cold pancake I had made for myself and realize it's pointless and add syrup. In-between bites, it's up and down, hugs and kisses, twirls, "Where's your ucky button", and what does a puppy say? It won’t be like this forever.
Bath time. Our favorite time. Ruba dub dub, swimming baby. Floors now soaked. Go to cupboard. Oh crap, I was going to fold those towels yesterday. 10 second dash to find a blanket to wrap her in. Slip on the wet floor and do the splits, but keep going focused on my mission, find a blanket before all the water is drained and she is cold. Return with blanket. With water squishing up through my slippers I wrap her up and exit the bathroom. It's bum cream and diapers, lotion and undershirt, followed by the same talk every day on how babies have to get dressed too, just like mommy and daddy or people would judge us... judge me, but it won’t be like this forever. Dressed! Now my turn. Put Boo down in living room where she can see Elmo and play with all her toys and it's a mad dash back to the bedroom to get dressed. Internal dilemma, look cute today or keep it caj. A quick giggle, definitely keep'n it caj. Uh oh, the giggles and the splashes can only mean one thing... toilet! Run to bathroom, "Boo"  as I watch full length of defiant little arms plunge back into the toilet water. Arggg I think, but keep calm and explain why what she just did makes mommy so upset. I put soap on my hands and rub her little hands in mine. Gosh, what is the smell? I take a step as to look on the back side of my child... that is definitely the problem. Like I said, how do they keep them stain free? It's funny because to me a second is time enough to blink or breath, but a second to my daughter is time enough to race to the other side of the world, have tea with the Queen, return home and still have time to spare. I'll be if in the second I stepped to look at her backside she rubbed her eyes. Soapy goodness still in full motion. As I hover her over the facet and splash water onto her face I think to myself what a sight. Looks like I am drowning my one year old. I used my house coat to dampen away the water droplets from her face, mental note, Cortney fold towels. Red eyes and hugs. Baby, Mommy is so sorry!
Half dressed I decide since in the bathroom already may as well conquer the rats nest that lay on the top of my head. Start brushing. Boo wants to help. She grabs the comb and winds my hair into a very unreasonable, unsaveable, knot and pulls. I never thought I would bald before my husband or worse yet my father, but I am well on my way to a shiny head like said father. I yell, "Oweeeee!" She stands up on the counter and leans in with an open mouth. Baby kiss it better, like mommy does when she is hurt. So, it's okay I'll just part my hair on the other side. You know, today is another day like yesterday and the days and weeks before... I think we will just skip makeup today and settle for a light shine gloss. Together we put on our lipstick. Mine manages to stay around my mouth area with my guiding hand helping her, but for the duration of the day she will have spots of shiny gloss reflecting off different parts of her face and head for that matter. It's beautiful really, she is beautiful and it won’t be like this forever.
We are ready. Pack up the diaper bag. Bundle on the clothes for the cold weather, and off to the gym we go. I plan for a thirty minute workout where most of the time I stare at the door waiting for someone from the daycare to come get me because we are poopy again or because we are teething and time away from mommy isn't exactly what she had in mind. The couple weights I do push though are heaven. When my muscle exhaustion takes over my emotional exhaustion I feel relief. Stress free relief. Rejuvenated and no longer on a murder mission we leave the gym.
Next order of business, grocery shopping. I swore before I had kids I would never be this and I would never be that, and reality… I am both. I hit the doors of Wal-Mart and it's like the gun from my younger track and field days. The race is on! I'm like a bullet. Mental list where are you? Why can't I remember what I need? Stop, pause, baby grabs nearest box or hanger from the shelf and pulls flinging it directly into my head. Ouch! OOH, yeah... eggs! Race is back in motion. On a good day we usually manage to reach the finish line with only a few rude stares and an open, not yet purchased, bag of veggie straws. Victory!
Home now, time to unload. That thirty minutes at the gym is about to pay off. Lollipops and ants. Whaaat? Yes, lollipops and ants. My daughter and I were enjoying lollipops in the sunshine this last summer when we got side tracked, heaven forbid, and left our loli's sitting on their wrappers. What we came back to was mountains of ants leaving only a mere glimpse every now and then of what used to be a pink lollipop. I have become that lollipop. Baby, diaper bag, purse, and groceries consume my body from every angle, ants! One very cute ant among them though!  Why do I have a fenced house? It's from the driveway, to the sidewalk, up stairs, through a gate, up some more stairs, and voila front door. Mind swear, keys are in the diaper bag one of the first ants on this lollipop. Inside…finally! Is it nap-time yet? Nope, it's lunch time!  Whippin' up a batch of homemade Mac and Cheese with a one year old is an adventure in itself, but I'll leave it to your imagination. With the kitchen, whom I have nicknamed Sudah after Sudah Bosan, left looking like a bloody battlefield; it is finally naptime. I can’t make out if it's me or angels singing Halleluja, but I have been told that I have a voice of an angel and my daughter really enjoys my tone deaf attempts at lullabies, so... it's debatable. And again I tell myself, it won’t be like this forever.

A silent prayer that this nap is longer than twenties minutes floods the heavens from my mind and I lay her down in her crib.

I pick up the house and clean Sudah. It's the 10 second tidy. Energizer bunny to the max, not because I really have that much energy but because I just need that minute to myself after it's all clean and she's still asleep. 

I sit still on the couch in the quiet of my house and close my eyes and let my mind go. Seconds turn to minutes and then I hear my little monster awake. The snuggles of her warm body next to mine and her sleepy eyes so content make my heart warm. It won’t be like this forever. 

Daddy's home, suppers made, house is somewhat still clean, and we are still alive. Success. Such a busy day with not much to show for it makes 1930 feel like midnight. I'm exhausted. Last on my mommy list, put the baby to bed. We go into the bedroom and I nurse her until she is asleep. I pull away, she wakes up. I try and give her her soother and she cries. Back to square one. This cycle was repeated 3 times each time her cry getting more and more upset. I'd had it. With no milk left and no patients I wondered how long I could lay there and let her cry without doing anything. Would she cave and fall asleep? Did I want her to go to sleep with tear stained cheeks? Why was I rushing her anyways? She wasn't eating she just wanted the comfort of knowing I was there, and I am frustrated with that, with her? With a single tear dropping onto my pillow I pulled her close to me and laid with her, at first for her, then for me. She needed me for a couple more minutes and I ended up needing her for much longer. The words I threw around so violently all day in my frustrations had come back to haunt me... "It won’t be like this forever." As much as she is my hurricane, she is my rainbow. She won’t need me like this for more than a few more months and what will I do then? It hurt me in that spot of my heart that I keep covered with layers and layers, the one spot that is so hard to find and very few can touch it, the complete body consuming part that you learn you have when you become a mother, that's the spot that was hit when I thought I was too tired to hold my baby that night. Who's the monster now? Little girl you teach your mom more than anyone else ever has. For those moments when you have nothing more to give, use whatever you can find in yourself and dig a little bit deeper. I have taken to heart that as much as I think it will never end and the desire to let the exhaustion and frustration consume me, forever is too short. So mental note, you can shove it… I will try and fold towels tomorrow!

Where HE Lives...

It is not even daylight. The alarm goes off, and I nudge my husband to make it shut up before it wakes our sleeping 1 year old. I have been up at least a couple times in the night with her teething self and don't want our day to start just yet. As I roll over and snuggle back under my warm covers, he sits up and throws his legs over the side of our bed. His day has begun. It's 4am. 

His day will be completely different than my own. It will start at the gym where he can relieve his pent up stress and get his mind off his daily tasks. Following his day will be full of professors, lawyers, and student, acquaintances and friends. It will be full of listening to and taking notes on lectures. He will think hard, study, memorize and meet deadlines. He will spend every hour of his day on someone else’s clock doing what is demanded of him and his time. He will give every ounce of himself physically and mentally so he can provide for our family. He will do it today and tomorrow and until forever. 

When he is done with lecture, he will put in hours as a servant to his mind. He will pour what little he has left into those books so he can maintain his scholarships. The free moments of his day will slip away until there are only a few precious ones left.

But he wont use them for himself. He wont meet up with friends or watch a football game. He will come home. He will help with supper and dishes and play with his daughter. He will give unselfishly the last of himself to his wife and his child until the exhaustion of the day takes over and his weary soul passes into another state. Once our daughter, Boo, is settled for the night I selfishly wake him up to take her to her bed. He does this with so much love as he simply kisses her forehead and tucks her into her bed in the other room before returning to his warm spot with few very short hours until hist next alarm.

My husband is a babe. Man-candy!

No, he won’t be on the covers of any magazines issued for this year or next. (I wont speak for when he is a lawyer though, wink wink!) He likely won’t be listed in GQ’s most attractive men for the year competing against Blake Shelton – but, he should be.

6 packs and the “right” amount of facial scruff doesn't define handsome. It is not about his haircut or the expense of his suit. His arm size, waist size or shoe size doesn't add up to handsome in my eyes either. Yes, his eyes, smile, and little booty might have won my curiosity, but they are not what won and own my heart.

Handsome – well, real-life handsome lives at my house.

Real handsome looks like arms that hold a tired wife and happy child.

Real handsome looks like endless sacrifice with no sleep because he wants to provide for us the best life he sees possible.

Real handsome isn’t cocky or arrogant, but quiets fears and scares away monsters with calm confidence.

Real handsome has plenty of time for building castles and brushing princess hair. 

Real handsome plays peek-a-boo and watches Elmo on repeat.

He doesn't have to be asked to help and he doesn't take for granted the tender hearts that he holds in his hands.

Real handsome looks like coming home – dress shoes by the front door, a back pack on the couch, and a suit-less body now wearing gym shorts and a tee.

When Hollywood or the next best author try to tell me that handsome has something to do with how controlling or persuasive a man can be… Christian Grey's and Gabriel Emerson's you are socially presented as examples of attractive men…To me, I won’t forget real handsome.

I will remember 4:00 am and the alarm going off. I will remember this important truth that real-life handsome is measured by wiped tears, calmed fears, sacrificed years and bear hugs. 

It is crowned by dedication. It is adorned with dignity. It is humble. It is trustworthy. It is our safe place. He is our King.

Handsome is found in this man who hold his family.

Like I said, REAL handsome lives at my house… 

To my handsome husband, thank you for being you… Every. Single. Day.

Happy Birthday! 

My Handsome....Pls enjoy two months of fighting paid for and no complaining to go with it! 
Boo and I sure love and appreciate you! 
Happy Birthday to you, babe! xox

Home Sweet New Home!

Let me tell you right now... I have a very unique, I'm sure never happens to anyone else; ever, reason for my lack of typing vomit on this blog to which positively lures you into a state of bliss reading all about the adventures of the Black family. It is this; I have been way to dang busy! Funny right, that never happens, to anyone, ever... like I said!

A couple orders of business.

We moved. We did it. We left UTAH! We have officially relocated to Spokane, WA. Boy is moving ever fun, said no one ever, and yes I am one to speak against the majority but in this case... ha, they got it right on.What did you say about Obama... Oh, "Oh-bomb-him," okay...done!

Anywayyyyys, the hubs started law school. He is doing fantastic as we all knew he would! Grad school has changed him. Its so cool watching him change from the boy I married 4.5 years ago. It's like when I am dead I will love all the information and lectures on topics I don't have a slight clue about, and I will love proof reading papers that take me 3 hours to read a simple paragraph. Yeah, lets say "mens re-a" and "reductio ad absurdum" in a paper and watch my wife try and sound it out, cant just say "intent to do so" and "reduction to absurdity" that would be far to uneducated. I kid you not it's like reading a book in a foreign language. Every now and then I am like..."This says "the"... "the" is good. Oh thank God for, "the's." I know how to use "the" in a sentence. Oh hell yeah. Point for wife. Bazinga. Like I said... I will love it all when I am dead. As for now, he's lucky he's not dead ... whoops did I just violate the Penal code section 422-422.4 for criminal threats on ones life??? :-P

I started my new job! It's fabulous! Like really, fabulous! The people are great and I picked my hours and days of work myself. Could it of been more of a blessing? The big man upstairs never fails!

I am so thrilled to also type in bold letters... WE ARE THE PROUD NEW OWNERS OF OUR FIRST HOUSE AS OF 10/3/2014. A place I can finally call my home. A place to raise my baby where I don't have to worry about every.little.thing! It was not, by any means, an easy street to take, but we did it and it's now the Black's estate! Now that sends some shivers. :D

As if all this wasn't keeping me busy enough. My hubs and I right before we left Utah were able to go on a double date with some friends to a murder mystery dinner in SLC. Let me just find the caps button again and head on over to my bucketlist for a well bolded check next to that pretty little number too.

Life is good people. Remember that. Next time you leave your house, forget your socks, not your smile! :D

365 Days.

Just over a year ago I became a parent and before my daughter was born, boy was I perfect. I had a strict schedule, time for myself, did cute things for my husband, was in good shape, looked good in a swim-suit, had the perfect job, the perfect life; the whole 9 yards my friend. Then... I became a mother!

Before she was born, I was surrounded by women making light-hearted jokes about new parenthood, about sleep deprivation, and pregnancy cravings. They exchanged recommendations for diapers, butt creams, and blankets, but what I couldn't see until I became a mother was underneath the small talk and "oohing" and "ahhing", sat the realness, the hardness of motherhood. Behind all their sleepless sunken eyes, each of them knew what that meant; they had felt that weight...a weight I knew nothing of.

I was there too, belly rounded with life, yesterday. I had the cell-phone app, the "Welcome Baby" books, the nursery that I had pinned on my Pinterest. I had the trendy soothers, the over packed hospital bag, the pretty dresses my girl would probably never wear because as cute as they look they are just way to much damn work. And I, of course, googled all about how you breath a baby out of your lady parts. I do not recommend doing the last one days before your babies due date... blood pressure through the roof; can I get an amen!

I remember off-roading-near-death experiences trying to shake her out (she had a really wrecklessly excited aunt driving), choking down every midwifery concoction ever wrote, exercises, essential oils, pressure messages, having my membranes stripped 3 times... all trying to get that little girl out of my uterus.

I wasn't in any hurry for her to arrive. I loved being pregnant, but with a hubby in his last year of university living 12 hours away... this baby girl needed to come when he was with me. I was in no way prepared to do it without my husband. It was important; he needed to be there.

It took what felt like ten years for her to arrive. More specifically, 41 weeks and 1 day. We tried for 7 days everything to make her come, and then when school permitted my husband, me and baby made a pack that she would stay all cozy right under my rib cage for another 5 days until daddy would be back on the weekend for our scheduled induction.

Oh, the time had finally come, and I was so nervous.

Then in a blink filled with a TON of painful epidural free labor she was here. She was tiny and marveling. She was so incredibly beautiful. She was perfect. She was an angel.

But wait.
I am not ready.
This is so hard.
I am so tired.
Why hadn't anyone prepared me for this?

I. Know. Nothing.

If I was sitting across from that very pregnant, very eager and naive version of myself, I would tell her this:

The love you will feel is nothing like you have felt before. It will be foreign and familiar all at once. It will fill you to the very top of your heart, nearly spilling over. The thing about this kind of love, though, is that it can feel heavy. Disproportional. You may feel like you will nearly break in half from the top-heaviness. You will not be able to tell the difference between exhaustion and depression, and that darkness will rob you from what should be the most tender months of your daughter's new life.

Your baby will choke and spit up and it will scare you as bad as if you were about to be hit by a semi. Your days when you leave for work will both begin and end with the saddest screams you will ever hear and they will break.your.heart! Your body will respond the way that it is programmed to - with panic. You will try to sleep less and accomplish more and you will come up short. You will always come up short.

You will feel like you are going mad, day after day, alone in that bathroom. Between the sound of the water running and your head's screams, you may feel like your nerve endings will be permanently frayed.

The trips to the doctors office you will be written off as "The Paranoid New Mom." For awhile, nursing will be excruciating, so hard you will want to quit 50 times over again, hard. Contrary to the laws of nature, your baby will not come out knowing how to siphon milk. Also, panic will flood your body more often than not. Yes, breastfeeding induced anxiety attacks are a thing, and it will happen to you. Hormones are jerks and you will cry, lots!

Did I mention how depleted and over ran you will feel? What about exhaustion? You will wonder how anyone else does it? Why your baby has a failure as a mom? These questions will cross your mind.

Eating, and sleeping, and showering are not a part of this season, not often anyway, but when they do happen that time will be spent crying. This season, in the thick of it, will feel never ending. While others' newborns are napping sweetly in their stylish organic leggings, or taking selfie's with their momma to which the mother's hair and make up looks like it were done by a professional via Instagram, yours is half naked, getting into everything making disaster not even define your home. There are over 2 billion mothers in the world, yet you will feel deeply alone. Compared to everyone else, you are failing. No matter how many hands you have on deck its not enough, your husband won't ever be able to help as much as you wish and pray he could, you will be deserted.

This love will crush your ego. It will destroy your capability to trust yourself. The fear that creeps in the shadows of this love will paralyze you. You will feel guilty for not measuring up. You will feel guilty for feeling guilty. You will feel guilty for feeling guilty for feeling guilty. You will cry over absurd things, like not being pregnant anymore. And over massive things, like the way your body has transformed because of pregnancy. You may never feel like you will get the hang of carrying this love.

But what if I told you that one day your daughter would smile? That she would even laugh? And so will you. She will grow and crawl and walk by eight months and you will giggle because you will be more busy than before proving your progress, proving your strength. You will find answers to your questions. You will get lost in those baby blue eyes, watching her sleep peacefully will melt your heart. What if I told you she will wrap her little arms around you for bear hugs, give you slobbery kisses, butterfly kisses, and Eskimo kisses. What if I told you how incredible it is to see her learn. I would tell you that it gets better. Oh, how it does. She will learn how to sleep and nurse. And I would even tell you she gets really great at both. I would tell you to find the hope in your daughter's eyes. As they lighten, so will that weight.

Though you may never have parenthood all figured out, there will be a day when you will find a way to wrap that love around yourself, instead of being buried in it.

And though it is hard to believe, one day you will have a vivacious, smart, and unbelievably happy little girl. A girl that absolutely adores the world and you as her mother. You, one day, will have clean hair again and time to make breakfast for yourself in the morning. Believe it or not the gym will be something possible again and you will have time for yourself.

You will.

Hold on to that truth. There will be a day that you will marvel over the fact that the girl in front of you is the same baby as before. You will look back on her first birthday and smile. Smile at all the hard times, the fear, the anger, the tears. You will humble yourself and realize God doesn't make mistakes. You are his daughter and he knows you like you know your daughter. He has that overloading overbearing love for you too and you are never alone. He, like you will one day to your daughter, push you. Push you for greatness and push your limits to show you just how miraculous you are.

You will be better. You will grow. You will adjust, and settle, and adjust again. That is what motherhood is, I think. Finding ways through the good heartbreak to fit more love inside of you. There will always be something that stretches your capacity for more. You will learn how to juggle the goodness with the heaviness and you will be happy, so happy!

And, I beg you Cortney, embrace that there will always be things unfinished. Let unfinished be okay. Let unfinished be enough. Don't blink time away.

It is enough.

You ARE enough!

And forget what you see on Instagram,
You are one hell of a mother and that baby girl loves you. 

Happy birthday baby girl. Thanks for the hardest but greatest and most rewarding year of my life. Momma loves you. Xox

Licking the bowl!

Looking over my blog it dawned on me, it's a lot like my life. Figures right? Well for me it took blogging it to unwind the knot. My life needs a change. It's me who is holding me back from what I want. You hear, "you only live once" all the time, but really... YOU ONLY LIVE ONCE! With this big move my family is about to take to Washington there is also going to be a BIG move in ME and my enthusiasm is nearly uncontrollable. I've never been ordinary so it confuses the heck out of me as to why I have settled for ordinary. Cortney Black, welcome to earth third rock from the sun! I'm alive. I breath. I am going to live life to the fullest because, like you, I don't know what tomorrow brings.

I will check them off as I complete them and add more as I continually grow and change. So brought to you by yours truly, here is my newly started life's bucket list and I will add photo's for your pleasure as I go through all these wild adventures. I feel everything on this list is 100% attainable for me, some being easier than others, but each a puzzle piece in who I am. It's not a spur of the moment list either. It's been well thought out and will, as I achieve them, present the real me. It's always been a part of me... It's who I am.

I strongly encourage you to make one for yourself. Aside from family, which is a huge piece don’t get me wrong, it's something to live for and reason to get up in the morning. You only live once, but if you live right... ONCE IS ENOUGH!

BUCKET LIST!!!

1. Swim with dolphins

2. Skydive

3. Go to a Broadway show

4. See the northern lights

5. Get a tattoo

6. Run a 1/2 Marathon in every continent

7. Ride an elephant / camel

8. Take a class on making sushi

9. Visit the 7 wonders of the world original and modern

10. Try surfing

11. Ride a gondola in Venice

12. Go para-sailing

13. Get a picture with the Eiffel tower

14. Hold a calling in my ward

15. Stand on the Great Wall of China

16. Learn another language

17. Go to an airport and take the next random flight anywhere

18. Go on a safari

19. Travel Europe

20. See Niagara Falls

21. Compete in a body competition

22. Get boudoir pictures

23. Hike Angels Landing

24. Get my Master's degree

25. Be part of a flash mob

26. Take a photo a day for a year

27. Volunteer in a 3rd world country

28. Serve a mission

29. Go hang gliding

30. Take a ballroom dancing class / pole dancing class

31. Take a class in pottery

32. Go to a masquerade ball

33. Go kayaking

34. See the Taj Mahal

35. Own a house---CHECK

36. Stand on both sides of the equator

37. Ride a Segway

38. Witness the miracle of life

39. Visit the Great Barrier Reef

40. Pick a place on a map blindly and go there.

41. Ride a dog sled

42. Attend a murder mystery dinner---CHECK

43. Visit Alcatraz / Stand in a light-house

44. Ride in a limo

45. Fly in a hot air balloon

46. Go to the super bowl

47. Take yoga lessons---CHECK

48. Watch turtles hatch and crawl to the ocean

49. Throw a coin into the Trevi Fountain in Rome

50. Learn a strategic game and play in Vegas

51. Volunteer at a soup kitchen

52. Have my palm read

53. Sit in the audience of a TV show

54. Whale watching tour vs. Sea world (my interpretation) 

55. Climb / swim in a Volcano

56. Swim in a cave

57. Go zip lining

58. Visit a castle

59. See the Statue of Liberty

60. Eat at an underwater restaurant

61. Ride a cable car in San Fran and visit the "Full house" house

62. Donate $1000 to a deserving cause

63. Swim with sharks

64. Fish in Alaska

65. Grow my hair to my butt

66. Ride a train from one state to another

67. Get a pearl from an oyster

68. See the sun rise from a high location. (Ex: Mountain / roof-top) 

69. Get married in every state that we live in

70. Have a six pack

71. Build my dream home

72. Read the Book of Morman cover to cover

73. Pee in all 5 oceans

74. Be an organ donor

75. Eat grenouille

76. Eat a meal from a world class chef

77. Donate my hair to cancer

78. Stand in four corners

79. Visit the Grand Canyon

80. Climb behind a waterfall

90. Raise a successful garden

91. Buy food from a flea market

92. Taste a dish unique to its geographical location

93. Publish a scholarly article

94. Walk on a suspension bridge

95. Pay for the person's gas behind me

96. No fast food for a full year

97. Hold a foreign animal (ex: koala bear / large snake)

98. Be an instructor for a fitness class

99. Give a heartfelt surprise to someone

My last 1 is going to change monthly. Starting September 2014

100. Thirty day plank challenge

Tugs I Love...

I have one tiny human relying on me at all times. Clinging to me, pulling on my pants or shorts "wanting up", begging for attention, or food, or loves and snuggles, or toys.  She needs me so much that the first thing I hear in the morning is her coo's or cries from her crib, depending on the morning it's a, "Momma I awake" or a "dang-it come get me, Momma," and the last thing before I go to sleep is her open mouth kisses, a Hi-5, and the sound of her breathing as it settles as she lays in my arms falling asleep. She needs me. So, I pour everything I have into her. I mother her until every bone aches, every heart string pulls tight-- until every fiber of my being has been used and wrung out and re-used again. I scoop her up to kiss her owe'es, cuddle her to sleep, listen to her coo's as she tells me stories at bath-time and supper time. Play peek-a-boo with her, read stories with her, play in water with her, go on walks, and make messes with her. And sometimes, sometimes I feel lost in it all. Like I disappeared into a vast expanse of soo's and ranch flavored snacks; that I might never find my way back. "Ah! Never a day off" I'll say to my husband as he walks in the door from work. I cry. My on week at work, I work and then Mother my baby; my off week from work, I mother my baby and play catch up from previous work week. So he'll hold me and calm me down because he's wonderful and supportive and knows me like no-one else does. The next day he will make time in his busy schedule to show me he cares by taking our baby and letting me breath. Alone. By myself. Just to breath. I saunter around my little house picking up here and there, but mostly just walking. I wander aisles of Walmart or Target picking up some toilet paper and cereal; the essentials. But again, mostly just walking. Thinking. Slowly. Not chasing and grabbing and saying "No!" or "Don't pull everything off the shelf, baby!" or "Don't put that in your mouth!" ... and it is glorious. But then, after a little while of hearing my own coherent thoughts in a weird state of quiet bliss, something happens to me: I start to miss her. Suddenly, I feel like I don't remember what her coo's sound like. I can't remember the weight of her warm body in my arms as she drifts to sleep. I can't quite remember the smell of her freshly washed hair smothered in baby magic, or see her overly dimpled smile spread as she runs and plays and giggles. I quickly open my phone in a state of panic to look through pictures of her because I can't get home fast enough to peek into her room. To see her sleeping face. To kiss her rosy cheeks. So when I start to feel like these moments/ days of chaos with my baby will never end, I suddenly realize that I may not want them to. My baby will not always be a baby. And someday she won't want me like she wants me now and the thought is heart wrenching. So I can't afford to be annoyed or bothered by her cries for my arms and tugs at my pants, or by her need to play with me, or by her urgency to sit on my lap and play with my face, or by her tiny arms around my ankles as I attempt to make supper, or by her pulling out everything from my cupboards and spilling out every box. Because as much as she need me, I need her one million times more. When I remember this, I'm not lost anymore. In fact, I am the most found that I've ever been. And it's wonderful. She is my wonderful. My blessing. My gift of love. I have been called a lot of names, but "momma" is my favorite!
*Come what may & love it!*

Pandemonium.

Most of the time life doesn't make sense. I can’t answer my own questions regarding all the "Why's" so I won't dare get on a high horse and try and make sense of anyone else's let alone judge them for how they act upon them. Life is H.A.R.D. rewarding, yes... but hard! I feel like the world is so awful and heavy, a lot of the time I don’t have any desire to fight that, to make change or try, because I am worried I am being impractical. Sometimes I get in such a rut that true happiness in all aspects is foreign, and it terrifies me that I am repeatedly making the same mistakes day in and day out. Am I missing the part of life that matters? I'm not living. I'm functioning. Barely.

Point blank, I am being robbed of being a mother. The mother I need to be. I have so many things I need to teach my daughter and I don't have time. The minutes I have here-and-there are always spent trying to organize chaos. I am being completely selfish because without my baby there would be no sunshine in my life, even if it's just a glimpse every now and then, when I see her she is my light. However, I am so busy loading my day with work and such that I don't have the time to dedicate to her. She was something special from the moment she was conceived and made her presence know by making me sick for the entire 10 months. She's a fighter. Not many mothers have their membranes stripped 3 times, drink every mid-wifery concoction and still have no signs of labor. She came on her time, not mine. She is always so happy, so engaging, so loving. I'm sure when we go out and she smiles her scrunchy nose smile at the stranger next to us it completely melts their heart and makes their day. Don't get me wrong she can stare a hole through you too... the girls got attitude. She kisses big slobbery open mouthed kisses when I say "kisses for momma". She hates all clothing of any sort on her. I am that mom who has a clothes-less baby running out and about my house after night-time baths every day because the fight just is not worth it. She is such a good eater just like her dad, but she prefers salty over sugary just like me. She loves to help load and unload the dishwasher. I have become very efficient in loading the top rack to the absolute max with dirty dishes and rewashing clean dishes over and over because they are the ones she loads on the bottom rack again and again. I have to do silverware by hand in the sink so she doesn't hurt herself "helping mommy." She loves water. So many times I take her out of the bath, get her dressed & lotioned, leave the room to get something, and that little 9 month walking baby of mine (she's dang quick too) would be yelling in her happy voice the coos that are the greatest noise I have ever heard, followed by splash, splash. To my mortification; dog water, toilet water, or plunging back into the tub with what little water is left in it. In her little learning mind it's at least a minute of fun. Fully clothed baby, soaked! She loves to be outside and be high up on my hip so she can see everything. Heaven forbid she miss something. She dances... I have a twerking baby. She has the most adorable little dance moves I have ever seen that go right along with her already high maintenance little diva self. At the age of 9 months she has mastered the art of photography. She LOVES to take pictures; in fact she is a camera hog and will push you out of her way until she is happy with what she sees in the camera. My "lost" IPhone was proof with over a 1000 pictures of her sweet face and my one eye, half face, or hair pieces that sometimes made the selfie with her. She is strong. How hard it has been for her to have "no mommy" for 7 days in a row twice a month and still keep smiling. I'm missing out on these moments completely or I'm too frustrated because I don't quote, "have time for it."

Life changes so fast, in an instant all my dreams and my hopes for the future can be gone. It doesn't mean they are all gone forever; I will climb out of that hole and realize I can make new hopes and dreams but it will never ever be the same and I can never get that time back. She is only this age once. 

There is sacredness in tears. They are not the mark of weakness, but of power. They speak more eloquently than ten thousand tongues. They are messengers of overwhelming grief, sorrow...and unspeakable love. A love I have seen through my daughter. After 2 miserable nights at the beginning of my 7 on work week with a sobbing baby, who in her sleep cries and cries only to be comforted by her mom, I felt my heart break...again. I tried everything to help with the teething, but it just wasn't an "I have an owe-ee" type cry. She would be weepy all evening with my husband and 3am on the dot she was awake and brought into my room so I could nurse her. She would fall asleep and at 330am I would try to wiggle my way out of bed without waking her and repeatedly was unsuccessful. She would grab onto my shirt and scream at me. It was an angry little cry that turned into a hurt cry. I couldn't for the life of me figure out what was wrong. I was reportedly late for work those first couple days as I would try to comfort her and snuggle her back to sleep and refused to leave until she had calmed down some. Day 3 finally my husband at wits end turned on the light and tried to play with her to stop her from screaming. He put her on the ground by the bed and instead of playing with her toys she crawled into her car seat that was a couple more feet away. I'll be damned if she fell asleep without many more tears. For the following days of work she would do the same thing, but this time I would carry her around in her car seat while I got ready and without fail every time she went back to sleep and we were able to move her to her crib right before I left for work. Call it reading too much into it, but falling asleep in her car seat thinking she gets to "go with mommy", being the only thing to settle her down, watching her cuddle up in her seat immediately with her blanket and her sew...right then and there, game over, she ended my title as a working mother. We will be moving to SPOKANE (surprise) on a 54,000 dollar scholarship for 4 years to Gonzaga University for my husband to attend law school as well as his MBA, and I will be taking a part-time/PRN job to keep my credentials. She was patient and understanding and allowed me to work when we needed me to work to provide, but now she doesn’t have to be strong anymore. I don't have to work. Something’s are more important and I will no longer overlook the needs of my family for worldly things. They are my life and who I am. 

Thank you baby girl for being my sunshine and reminding me what matters, thank you family for all your help in this decision, and thank you husband for you unconditional love and support! 

Our new adventure starts in our first home as home buyers August 20th 2014 in SPOKANE, WA!!!

**Come what may...& LOOVE IT! **

P.S. the silver lining in chaos is service to your fellow men. Thank-you mom. I am so blessed and honored to have you. You keep me grounded. You talk to me when I need someone and am so frustrated. You never give me the easy way out, yet you help me through the struggles of the hard path. You are far superior to any word that describes a mother and I thank God every day for allowing dad to knock you up! ;-)

Bed of Pines!

I really do admire mommies who have the time and patience to dedicate several days of the week for craft projects with the kidlets. The creative mommies who decorate their homes to help celebrate the different seasons of the year. Health conscious mommies who make certain everyone meet the daily nutritional requirement for every vitamin and mineral. If you are any or all of these, I salute you. ♥
As for me: I wake up in the morning tired without knowledge of what it feels like to sleep-in anymore. There is no stretch or yawn, but instant to-do's. With 4 adults, a baby, and two dogs in a 900 sq.ft home, I live in absolute chaos. Shower, make breakfast, feed the baby, phone rings, trying to buy a house, bath the baby, dress the baby, timer goes off..forgot appointment and going to be late, clean up breakfast, put baby down for nap, need ice for shack, make lunch, feed the "multiples", can’t find paperwork, baby wakes up, feed baby, need to sign addendum, clean up baby, clean up lunch, can’t get ahold of hubby, make grocery list, phone has 5% battery, start laundry, activity with baby, baby naps again, back up phone to computer...no time, babies awake, too busy to exercise for the 4 month in a row, make supper with limited ingredients...and so on, and so forth. Productivity? NO! I start tidying up, walk out of the room for a second and come back to every box of noodles, bag of rice, anything that can spill if open, spilled and my baby having the time of her life playing in it. If it's not food, it's dog water or to my own mortification...toilet water! One step forward...ten steps back. I am constantly behind. I run around like a slaughtered chicken regularly and have so many things going at once I'm lucky to remember my name, let alone where I put my cell phone. Because I am strong and usually Mrs. Sunshine-unicorn-rainbow-bubble's the universe clearly has this preconceived notion that I am unbreakable. Well losing my phone on top of chaos. 1 point universe, 0 me. The memories, uncandid moments, first time ventures, laughs, smiles, cuddles, words etc. all caught on iPhone camera...gone! That is taking all my happy moments, the pictures I repeatedly scroll through at work when I miss her, the reminders of why I do what I do, the light at the end of the tunnel, what keeps me going day to day...gone! When it's hard for me to sleep because I am stressed or upset, what do I do? Look at pictures or play videos of my baby. It was the fix I found that works for me. It, something so simple, was my happy place in my overbearing and overwhelming life. Take my wallet, my keys, anything...
Constant failure. I feel like a constant failure. I know what is most important in life; however with how busy I am trying to get caught up 24/7 I am neglecting to show my husband the love he deserves, and my daughter the undivided attention she deserves from her mom. I am broken and I do not have a solution. I have tried everything from lists and charts to hardly sleeping so I have more hours in a day, and still there is not enough me to go around. This is not the perfect life; I am not the perfect mommy I envisioned myself to be while I was prego. It's hard to not deduct points from myself under these circumstances. It's hard to give myself credit for anything I do, cuz who really gets excited for ichyban for supper? These people depend on me and I am somewhere in hell.
I work with a girl. She is casually dating, lives on her own, and has the perfectly cleaned house all the time... you see where I am going with this. However, she would probably kill for my life; a husband, a baby girl, a family. Yet I am over here wishing I had her life. No responsibility but those I would hold for myself. It would all about me, Cortney, myself, and I. That's it. And then, because I love these amazing people who are mine in my life, I immediately feel tremendous guilt for thinking those thoughts and letting my mind go there. I am not a bad person contrary to your perception of me now, and never do I regret having either of them in my life, but it's the unhappy me inside who, when weak, wishes I had the easy way. This is supposed to be the time of my life, said every movie, every other young momma's blog, every book or fairytale, yet what do I remember at the end of the day? Just how much damn further behind I got and now no happy moment to scroll through. Fabulous.
What is the silver lining in chaos?

My Bashert

To the love of my life, 

You came into my life in 2008, showed me enormous amounts of love and LOOK where we are today! Today is our 4 year anniversary. Can you believe it? I can’t help but smile knowing we’ve been married that long! What an accomplishment. 

What a journey it’s been! It is no secret we’ve had our tough times, but with God’s grace we are better than we’ve ever been. He helped us overcome some tough stuff, and the outcome? Now I feel closer to you, I feel more comfortable with you, and I am so much happier. There were days I wasn’t sure I could make it another day, let alone be a good wife, but now even the bad day’s end in a smile and I see us together for the rest of our lives. I have confidence we will work through any issues that could come along and try to stop us, it’s this thing called marriage, and we have forever to perfect it!

I know that is a dampening start to a love letter, but I think it is such a testament to our love for each other. I hope to continue to grow in our relationship until our last days. I pray that I can be the best wife to you; loving, supportive and encouraging. I want to respect your authority and honor your role as a provider and protector in my life. 

I want to thank you for dealing with my emotional breakdowns and for making me a better person along the way. Thanks for loving me when I am difficult- through thick and thin. Gosh, I’m a lucky girl! 

Despite some fights and individual stubbornness, I’d say we’ve had a pretty amazing four years. We’ve traveled some, we’ve both graduated university with our bachelor’s degrees or in your case 2 bachelor degrees (always gotta exceed me ha-ha), we have been camping and fishing, we’ve been to weddings, funerals and celebrations, we’ve been to concerts, sporting events, plays and festivals, we’ve made big and small decisions as a team, we’ve made new friends and shared lots of good times with those new and old. Most importantly we have the most beautiful angel together who is the light of our lives. Being a Daddy looks really good on you! Through all these things we have learned to love each other unconditionally. And you make it so easy to love you. 

There are so many reasons why I love you. Let’s start with how bad you smell after work. You give a skunk a run for its money. How you always say, “look babe, I cleaned the kitchen.” When really you should be saying that you rinsed some dishes but failed to clean off the counter tops, wash off the stove and fridge, drain out the dish rag, and wash off the table. But you… did the dishes right? Or what about how you can trip over the garbage that I put by the door a bazillion times and still not clue in it needs to be taking out until I verbally express so. Don’t even get me started on laundry. It’s like some foreign activity that only aliens do and heaven forbid you keep the dirty clothes in with all the other dirty clothes. They seem to look so much nicer scattered amidst the house as some kid of décor; man décor at its finest! I may never truly understand you or be able to wrap my head around why you do what you do sometimes, but that's okay. I can appreciate a little mystery. Wink, Wink!

You’re so hardworking, sometimes a slave driver. You have made yourself busy in your own business and for that I commend you! It’s brave and not a safe risk at all, but nothing we have ever done has been the safe way, so how can I expect you to be safe now? Because of your drive and your determination you will be extremely successful and I have no doubt about it. You challenge me out of my comfort zone because I trust you above all. 

You are fun and bring so much dry humor into our marriage. It’s unique to you and I love it, so thanks for making me laugh ever-so frequently, by just being you – lighthearted and silly. I love all of your fun- but extremely useless facts- and all of the knowledge that you hold, as random as some of it might be. 

What about your strength? I am not talking about when you step on my toes or jump on my back for a piggy back. I am talking about your determination to be a better person, your commitment to be all that you can be. You are eager, focused and passionate about improvement. You work hard to achieve it and I’ve watched you grow into an amazing man that overcomes some deterring trials! 

Not only do you aim to be the best, you are supportive of me tackling my goals too. No matter what crazy ideas I have (and I’ve had some good crazy ones), you always support me. What makes you crazy is that you always immediately support me and have my best interests at heart. It is so true what you say, that what makes me happy, makes you happy. And you show this every day. Thank you for being so good to me – loving, patient, understanding and kind. 

You have a sensitive and caring nature. You are passionate. You are honest. You are handsome. You are loving. You are talented. You are smart. You are forgiving. You are trustworthy. You are a good friend. You are a good person. You are positive. You are funny. You are determined. You are generous. You’re the best husband for me! 

You sure are something, babe! 

I honestly can’t imagine my life without you. This marriage means so much to me; it is my greatest source of pride, content and happiness. I love sharing this special union with you, day in and day out. I am so thankful for you and the past four years of our life together. Happy Anniversary! I look forward to the next 4 years, 10 years, 50 years… I look forward to the rest of our lives. 

My heart belongs to you always and forever. 831. I.LOVE.YOU 

Your wife, your very very sexy wife, Cor 

P.S. Please spend the evening with just me on June 22nd/23rd as we will dine like the rich. Sleep like the kings. And wake-up NOT at the butt crack of dawn!!! :D

Decisions!

The application process for my husband to go to law school is now over and we have come to decision time. Dun, Dun, Dunnnnn!!! I am so happy for him and so excited for this new adventure our family is about to go on. Being that I, since I could play the game "operation" as a child, have always wanted to be a doctor, a flight surgeon, seeing him get closer to his dream when mine is a speck in the sky that is half the time covered with clouds making it merely impossible to see, yet still exists but is nowhere near any reality, sucks! Hell even my lingerie is, as pathetic and mockery as it is, skimping’s of a doctors uniform (Thanks Lish). But hey I can rock a naughty doctor like you aint neva seen before and for now that is all the practice I get so lay off me! HA! While most people are like, "nice bum, I'd stick that"... I'm all over here like, "nice veins, I'd stick that" and that is the closest to real life doctoring I get aside my wonderful job where I behind the scenes diagnose patients. Soooo for now I will live vicariously through my hubs! I have never been more excited to get the mail. Hell I think we checked it like every day for a month! There is one school particular that my hubs didn't want to apply to because it was not a top 50 school it was a top 100 school out of like 400 law schools in the USA. However, he received an application waver making it free to apply so I pulled a sneaky wifey move and took it upon myself to apply for him because this particular school is only 6 hours from my family and has the grad school I wish to attend someday also! Soooo bamm, I applied him! The letters kept piling up until... the one school I applied him for came... not only was he accepted, but he was offered a MASSIVE tuition scholarship for 4 years! Yep, who's the woman! C'mon where's the love! Free school vs a couple hundred thousand dollars of debt really makes you think twice and definitely caught my hubs attention! Needless to say this school rose to the top of our list in a hurry! We have planned a campus visit for the first week in July and sometime thereafter we will make our decision. Is the anticipation killing you yet... good cuz I am not telling until it’s a 100% done deal and we have decided that is where we are gonna go amongst the others! Yep, I am bloody cool like that... and if you already know cuz I sometimes get spastic and excited like my baby, mother-like-daughter, keep your mouth zipped or a throat chop is coming your way!! :D *Come what may & love it... unless it's a throat chop!* :D

Since "Cortney" became "Momma"

"Everything changes when you become a mother!" It’s a cliché, and I hate clichés. But it’s also a truth. And it beats me over the head like a ton of bricks on a daily basis. I was scared to death of becoming a mother. A sort of self-confidence I lacked. However, since she graced us with her presence, in her own time as she wouldn't be rushed, I have learned so much and my journey through motherhood is just beginning. I can say with absolute certainty that my own understanding and experience of life has changed immeasurably since and I’m still trying to learn to navigate not just the logistics of life with a baby, but a very new emotional terrain.
I have come to realize that no matter what I do my house will never be squeaky clean again for longer than a cowboy can stay on a bucking bull.
I thought I hated laundry... magnify that feeling by the distance to the moon and your still a bit short.
I have always been a fan of loud movies n music, but now I find myself driving in silence and loud noises just make me mad. Silence to simply hear myself think is my new forte.
I laugh more and love harder.
I want to throat chop ignorant people who comment on how a mother handles her crying child. It's not your business. Can't handle the crying feel free to escort yourself out. It's obvious she loves when her child cries and is upset... said no one ever! She's doing the absolute best she can, so before you judge and make snide comments just know you don't want to be on the other end of a mad mother's throat chop and not much makes me madder.
I would choose going to bed early over any night out. I love going to the movies... I just love sleep more! 

Sleeping in until 8am is as magical as a pot of gold at the end of a rainbow.
I am stronger emotionally so my family can’t sense the stresses of my life. Instead I cry in the shower because it is the only time I might get 5 minutes of uninterrupted time to myself.
I am less brave. Or, possibly, less stupid. I used to be more of a risk-taker. Now, how my actions affect my baby is my first concern in everything I do.
I have lost touch with people in my life who I should have banished a long time ago.
Every day is a surprise. It's almost as if that fat little man in red is climbing down my chimney every night. 

Bodily functions are no longer repulsive. In fact, they make me cheer and clap hands. (Hooray for poop!)
I check my baby out in the mirror instead of myself. "Yuup she looks good we can leave the house, no one is gonna look at me anyways!"
Every stretch mark has become a beauty mark. I made her... every bit of her!
Some of my favorite most memorable conversations only consisted of words like, "na-na, ba-ba, nas" followed by some over-excited screams and giggles.
The sacrifices I thought I made to have my daughter no longer seem like sacrifices, but blessings of strength. It proved to me how strong I am.
I have a whole new respect for my parent’s esp. my mother. She feels for me as I do for my daughter. Bless her for all she has seen me through!
My daughter is my heaven. I have never been happier in my life and I see now looking back that our family was missing something all along. Her! She was the fix to the empty that we didn't even know was empty until now.
She is also my hell. I love her and need her way more than she needs me. When she is hurt or cries it is heart breaking. The mere thought of ever losing her is my deepest inferno. I live for that smile, those dimples, her already I-am-gonna-hate-one-day attitude, her holding my hand, the slobbery kisses, all of it; pure joy it brings!
I hurt when it's not my turn to hurt. Recently over Facebook I saw a girl my age lose her 5 month old son to SIDS. I wholeheartedly feel another mother’s pain. I can’t imagine what it feels like to lose a child. I couldn't before I had my own baby, but now whenever I hear of such losses, all I can think about is how, once upon a time, that mommy had high hopes and dreams for her baby. How her heart melted as mine with every smile and coo. How her life changed as mine did. How she fought through the same struggles as I did as a new mother. How together the mommy-baby bond was formed. I am not saying that I would not have cried at the same story before I had my daughter, or that people without children would not shed tears over it. But the feelings behind my tears – the fiery, gut-wrenching pain that aches within me when my mind even flirts near the real question that arises with every story of loss: what if it were my baby being taken from me? – are awful and new and something I fear I wouldn't be strong enough to handle with such grace as she did. Some women really are super heroes.
The day my daughter was born I knew looking into her eyes that I was meant to be her mother and that even though we did not plan to get pregnant in anyway her and God had different plans for our family. Every day is a new adventure and life is so much better and brighter seeing everything new again through her eyes. She really is the light of our lives and I could not imagine our lives any other way. Bring on the change!
*Come what may & love it!*

Fifty Shades of Black

I rather feel the pain of a broken bone than have the flu for even a day and because of this, of course, I get the flu! I get the flu, 3 hrs later my hubs gets the flu, followed by my sister... all in a small 1 bathroom apartment all night long! Ha that was fun, said no one EVER! Trying to take care of an 8 month old baby who is cranky herself, mostly because she probably doesn't feel good either, with nursing in between every horribly ungracious attempt to give my guts to the toilet I, after 36 hours, made it out alive... By alive I mean I was breathing, but the massive fever had me laid out for the rest of that given day! With that fever's farewell dehydration took hand-in-hand my milk with it. No worries, with mass amount of fluids and stimulation pumping it came back, thank goodness! Is my baby old enough that she would be just fine without nursing, yes, but when I am a working mother and that is all I can do for her to comfort her, when that is our time to bond after the day passed with no momma, I will be damned if anyone or anything will take that away until I am ready, furthermore, until she is ready. It's the one thing that I can do for her that no one else in the world can and yes I may be at extremes, but when I have to give up so much right now to provide the life I want for her, I will not give up anything that is in my control. I am her momma and nothing can take that away from me!

This however, was just one shade of black. I wake the next morning following my fever and all signs point up, ha not! I had no voice and I involuntarily allowed my lungs to get wrapped in a spider’s web and find exit through my throat...aka, Bronchitis! Fabulous! 

I get home from work where we worked all day short-handed, where I had to stay an extra half hour to help, and then hit rush hour on my way home. My spotless house that I had cleaned and disinfected in the spare time I had using any energy I could find before I went back to 7 days of work( I had to search really hard for that energy) was a disaster. Trying not to cry and completely lose it I took a couple deep breaths and held my baby. Her excitement and spastic movements in my arms pushed aside my upset thoughts and we played! 

It's supper time. Too exhausted to cook I throw some frozen meatloaf and funeral potatoes from my deep freeze that my grams made into the oven. (Bless her heart) Okay, you know when you scribble with a pencil on a piece of paper holding down on the wood with as much pressure as you can to get the darkest shade of scribbles? Well, that is where supper took us. I told my husband to watch the baby and I would dish up food for him and bring it to him (yes we are eating in the living room because I was far too tired to set the table). My sister also dished up. I tasted supper as it is one of my favorite meals and practically start a replay of said previous encounters with the toilet. Both had probably 10 bags of full size onions in them. I HATE HATE HATE onions. Never liked them, never will! This to me was the end of the world, but with teary eyes I shook it off and put a bird’s size portion on my plate hoping to pick out the onions and maybe get a bite or two. Moments later Shel is in the kitchen. We walk back into the living room and my baby has spilled all of my newly opened dr.pepper all over my brand new floor rug (the rug I bought for her to crawl on so she didn't crawl on gross rental apartment carpets.) One of my finer moments as a mother, I bought this carpet in a dark brown on the edges and light white/tan in the middle. Guess where the pop spilled?? Yuuup, right beside the blow out poopy diaper or poopy carpet I should say!!! This was the final straw. I had tried so hard to stay composed but I lost it. My hubs let me vent without much word as I cleaned up the mess trying to hold back the tears. However, my sister hadn't learned that I don't want to be talked down or bothered just let me carry-on as I may and it'll pass. Needless to say I ended with an apology. 

As the steamy water poured down on me in hopes it would wash away all the bad the week entailed. It didn't, and I wept. In my hands, in the shower, for a good length of time, I simply cried. After I cried, I prayed! After I prayed, I cried! 

Not all days are bad...but even after the bad I still have my family who depend on me and need me. Turns out, I need them 1000 times more. They challenge me, they force me to see how strong I am and see my independence, sometimes they push me passed what I believe my threshold is, but when I think I am done they are the first ones cheering at the finish line as I drag myself across. I can do this and I will do this. They bring me pure joy no matter the day or the shade of black.

*come what may and love it!*